Falling for Forgiveness
by mythweaver1
Summary: FFIV. Kain wrestles with his demons in the punishing heat of the Underworld. Alternate version.


A/N: I wrote this last year and never posted it to this site. Now, however, I've reached a place in WoTC that this piece actually makes sense in the flow of events. This is an alternate view of what could happen on the group's journey from the Dwarf Stronghold to the Tower, from Kain's rather than Rydia's perspective. This is not meant to be a chapter of WoTC but it's own separate piece. The events in this are not the same as those in WoTC.

Falling For Forgiveness

The Underworld's heat was just as unforgiving as its name implied. For days, the group of five had been wandering the barren magma plains between the domain of the Dwarves and the Tower of Bab-il; practically stumbling over the terrain in their hurry to forestall Golbez' acquisition of the crystals. It had been an arduous trek through the sulfurous air and the swells of heat that poured off of the magma seas—the combination of which causing the cobalt armor of the dragoon to feel as molten against the man's skin as the ground that tremored beneath their feet.

The woolen tunic and garments he wore beneath the plating offered some protection from the metal's burning sting, but it also stifled his ability to perspire, compounding the problems of the heat. Despite his discomfort he stilled his complaints, fully aware that he was not alone in his displeasure. His companions were all similarly quiet, as if conserving their strength for when it was most needed, trying not to needlessly expire any more precious water by speaking.

As it was, beads of sweat glistened on Rosa's perfect brow, staining the roots of her hair a darkened gold while she stepped ever-nearer to Cecil, remaining graceful despite her dogged pace. Kain's limited gaze shifted to the stalwart paladin beside her, plowing forward like a ship driven by the winds, but not by its own power. His friend's pace was slackening, the armor he wore no doubt acting as much of a furnace as his own. Only the green haired child and the able-bodied monk of Fabul retained any of their energy during the journey across the crumbling rock.

Kain watched them all and bore the heat as penance. Let him feel the flames of hell lick at his skin and cleanse him of his sins. Certainly he deserved to feel this pain, some sort of retribution for the misdeeds he had done. If Cecil would speak no words to him of the betrayal, he resolved to carry out the punishment himself. It had been painful enough to see the forgiveness in their eyes and hear the words of acceptance fall from their lips, Rosa's most of all—_by the gods, why was there still warmth left in her gaze_—but it wasn't their forgiveness that he wanted, it was the rebuke that never came. The truth. He tried to bury his lust for Rosa in the deepest corner of his soul, to shroud his feelings behind the shadows of his helm, but to see her there, out of reach, unaware, was like a lance to his gut. For every thought of her, his guilt increased and the more he wished he would just catch on fire and have done with it, consumed by the land of scorching shade.

But Rosa was not his only crime. His guilt would be brought to bear in yet another form—and in the shade of orchard green. From her at least he hoped to gain some sort of substantiation to his inner struggle, to finally receive blame and have his weakness put to words. He _wanted _the sword to fall—_anything—_so that he could stop punishing himself with this personal anguish. There was no forgiveness in the eyes of the green haired Summoner of Mist, no sympathetic glances and proffered hand of mediation. She was not the same fiber of person as Cecil and he knew it was only a matter of time before their paths collided. For now they seemed to be at an impasse, neither wanting to broach the subject of the past and risk waking the sleeping giant with the others nearby. At least he knew she was angry, fury lurking just beneath the surface of her skin and ice in her eyes, piercing, sending a chill through his body whenever their eyes happened to meet. When would she unsheathe her claws?

In the meantime, she found other ways to remind him without words. It was by her powers alone that he and any of them had managed to stay alive in this infernal landscape. With her magic, she had found a way to draw moisture out of the air and condense it to a suitable form for drinking. Her abilities in this manner had been a boon for them thus far, and the irony of his dependence on her was not lost on him. The weak and frightened child had become his savior through this dangerous journey, and only because she deigned to, not because it was required of her. He could see the look of warning in her eyes, showing him that she knew what power she held over him.

Yet the miles moved past and the confrontation remained unspoken. Why didn't she just flay him with the tremendous power she held in her smallest finger? It was a mystery he hadn't yet solved, and looking at her from the tacitly agreed upon distance they maintained, he had to admit that she was a terrifying image to behold. She was no longer a child, no longer the little girl he had almost slaughtered in the name of his king. She was a young woman now, resilient and devoted to the cause that Cecil had set in motion so many months before.

He watched her occasionally as they continued, how the green of her tunic glowed vibrantly with life and how her hair whipped across her face in a sudden updraft of heat. If she knew he was watching, she showed no sign of it, and simply continued her forward march to the tower's base in the distance. He marveled at her stoutness of heart, that she could even bear to stand beside him in battle with all he'd put her through.

Then, without warning, Cecil shifted, his armor straining from the movement as plate scraped across plate. Kain turned to see what caused this change in course, and saw Rosa gripping her bow with white knuckles just as Cecil drew his mighty sword from its scabbard. The landscape had grown uneven and varied, ample territory for creatures on the hunt. Caught up in his distracting thoughts, Kain hadn't even noticed, and just now saw an enormous basilisk scuttling across the rocks, long tongue falling slack from its jaws and winding back into its beak of a mouth in a tight spiral.

Before he could blink, the Summoner had begun an incantation, speaking words so quickly, the sound rose to a dull thunder in Kain's ears. It was the monk who moved next, moves precise and well-practiced, while Cecil readied his blade. Kain dipped to the ground, almost to his knees, coiling the spring of his body for release. He stored the energy in his legs and pushed off, vaulting to dizzying heights and soaring above his companions. It was a skill he had performed countless times, it was the trademark of the Dragoons, and yet, with his lance held firmly in his left hand, he began to notice that this time he had gravely miscalculated his jump. Was it the fatigue? Was it his own weak mind? The basilisk faded to a small dark shape on the ground and continued to fade. He was going to land too far from his target, too far from his companions, and the change in pressure from the ground to this height was forcing blood through his temples at an uncomfortable speed. His vision began to blur, heat and fatigue toying with his nerves. He shouldn't have taken such a chance in the air while suffering from constant dehydration, and he regretted ever leaving the ground. He began to see spots, and his limbs felt like stones, unmovable stones that were dragging him downward…his head dipped, the rest of his body following. He couldn't control the landing, he couldn't even control where he might fall. The heat had taken its toll, and his stubbornness to ask for respite had done him in.

He picked up momentum on his descent, falling at a frightening speed. Halfway down, he gave up hoping for a pain-free landing and prayed for death, something quick, something that stole him away from this life and all he'd done wrong with it.

It was not death that greeted him on the ground when his armored body at last made violent contact. Pain exploded through his back and legs, and he knew at least one, if not many, bones were broken. He gasped wretchedly and felt the dizziness reverberate through his skull. He almost wanted to laugh, how pitiful a creature Golbez had reduced him to! Unworthy of his friends' forgiveness, unable to make amends to the girl whose life he'd destroyed, countless faces and souls all dead or maimed by his hand, through his betrayal….

He tried to remain unfocused, tried to drive the thought of the pain from his mind, but he was failing miserably. He was beginning to lose consciousness, fog clouding his mind…dulling his senses…the blistering heat…the pain…

The sensation of something cool passing his lips brought him awake again. It slid down his parched throat and worked some sort of magic on his broken body, soothing the pain with its healing power.

_Rosa_.

Kain could feel her hand on his jaw, tilting his head to drink the potent liquid. The hand was soft, with only lightly calloused fingers, but strong. When he regained the function of his arms and his mind slowly returned from its murky haze, he gripped the hand of his rescuer and opened heavy lids. He blinked. This was no golden haired angel. This was not the woman he had suffered to win and failed.

Green eyes, as hard as any stone that might be used to describe them, looked down at him. Her mouth was set into a firm straight line, and her brow was etched with concern, though the rest of her face showed little sign of it.

"Can you sit up?" she asked, curt as always.

He was almost too numb to say anything, he was so startled by her presence.

"Rydia," he mumbled, sliding his hand from her arm and pushing himself up to sitting.

She withdrew her hand from his head and sat backwards on her heels, studying him shrewdly, unruly hair cascading over her shoulders. "The others should be here soon," she informed him, looking at a small crop of rocks to his left hopefully. "I sent a signal for them to find. I didn't have a great abundance of potions, so you'll have to wait for Rosa for the rest."

Kain removed his helmet, dented as it was, and placed it to his side. "How long…"

"A few hours. We went looking when you didn't come back after a while. Cecil and Rosa were worried."

He noticed that she didn't point out that _she _was worried.

"They shouldn't be worried," he said bitterly, gruffly, staring at his boots. "This was all my fault. All of this is my fault. If I hadn't—we wouldn't be racing for the crystals now…your village…"

"So you admit that it was your fault," she said pointedly.

He glanced up at her, then at the ground. "If only the old man's Meteor had killed me instead…"

"You made everyone suffer," she went on. "You're responsible for the crystals of Air and Earth being stolen, and for Rosa…"

"I know…"

"How is it someone as strong as you fell so low? You could have stopped it! You could have helped from the beginning!"

Her words each felt like blows and he winced every time she spoke.

"I'm not as strong as everyone supposes," he replied weakly, ashamed.

"Then get stronger!" she snapped. "He trusts you, regards you as a friend even after everything that's happened. Prove to him that his trust is well placed!"

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry for everything."

"It's going to take more than that to move _me," _she replied. "I'm not Cecil."

He chanced a small smile and shook his head. "No. No you're not."

She stood up and walked a few feet away, standing on her toes, looking for something. When she looked back there was a strange glint in her eyes.

"You look more like a human without that helmet," she observed. "I thought the same of Cecil once."

He frowned, unwilling to make the comparison between himself and the holy paladin. "I'll never find that sort of redemption…"

Rydia shrugged, her eyes searching between the crags and fissures in the landscape. "Perhaps not," she admitted. "But you'll never find out if the journey kills you first."

Those words, so simple, rang deep into his soul, creating a new respect for this girl with magic in her blood. He sighed and slumped forward, sweat beading down his temple.

"Rydia…how is that you've always been so strong?" he muttered almost to himself.

She rested her hands on her hips and gave him a sidelong defiant glance. "Who said I was as strong as you suppose?"

"I envy your resolve," he replied.

"Well, I don't envy you one bit," she pointed out wryly. "You almost looked like an armored pancake when I first found you. Rosa can cure the rest of you, but that armor…" she paused and shook her head. "Kain, make me a promise," she said, looking directly into his hard blue eyes.

"Promise me you'll try."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "What?"

"To redeem yourself. Otherwise I'll never forgive you, and I have the power to make sure you don't forget it."

Kain swallowed hard. This was not the conversation he'd been expecting from her. It was far more tame than he could have imagined, still painful, but subdued. He nodded grimly.

"Rydia…"

"Don't thank me," she interrupted him. "If it weren't for Cecil and Rosa, I wouldn't have gone looking for you in the first place and we wouldn't be having this conversation. I just don't want to see them hurt again."

"You're an incredible woman."

She stared at him, silent and stiff. "You're a fool," she finally said, stalking off when she heard footsteps approaching from beyond a wall of rock.

Kain smiled to himself. "I _am _a fool," he repeated to himself. "Hopefully one who can someday earn forgiveness from even _you_."


End file.
